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A ROMANCE CATSKILLS 


BY 

THE MONDAY AFTERNOON LITERARY CIRCLE. 

H 


Press Parisiak. 
PARIS, TENN. 


pi ««« I' ^ 

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PREFACE, 


lu a region too remote to be found on the United 
States ujap, live a settlement of educationalists who 
have organized themselves into a club known as the 
“Monday Afternoon Literary Circle.” Its object is 
to promote a taste for classical literature and the fine 
arts. 

We claim not to be great, but to do our small work 
in a great way, and to make our thoughts as priceless 
as “apples of gold in pictures of silver.” (!) 

As it is difficult for all infants to live through 
the second summer, it was found necessary to create 
some movement to preserve the life of our club. 

For this reason it was suggested that we write a 
romance, the individuality of each girl showing itself 
in the various chapters. If some wise friend of ours 
shall toss this little book aside as the creation of the 
romantic minds of girls of sixteen, we say to you in 
the words of Thomas Nelson Page, that “He is one 
of those, who having avoided the land of romance, 
misses the title of fool at the cost of acelestial crowui. 

M. A. L. C. 


A Romance of the Catskills 


CHAPTER I. 


HE eveiiiu^]: shadows had come, and still Sibyl sat 



on the small ottoman in the self-same position, 


^ with her head resting on her hand, and her chest- 
nut hair falling in tantalizing waves down her back. Her 
(yes, with a touch of melancholy, were studying the rich 
figures in the Turkish rug at her feet, for she was think- 
ing of her personality. 

All around her were the signs of luxury, luxury that 
she had won by her own efforts and the goodnss of God in 
the bestowal of a grand voice. From her Puritan ances- 
tors she inherited an abhoren(5e of the stage, so despite the 
most flattering oflers of opera managers, she steadily re- 
fused the stage as a profession, confining her efforts to 
singing in private entertainments and as leading soprano 
in a large cburch. 

But the great burning wish of her heart was to be 
known as a girl. Not to be known as Sibyl St. John, 
the great singer, but as a live, real sentimental American 
girl. Despite her twenty-six years, she w'as a mere girl at 
lieart. 

Arousing from her reverie, she arose, lighted the gas, 
showing in the mirror a lithe willowy creature with large 
hazel eyes, fringed with long curling lashes. She was 
gowned in a loose robe, and her hair had followed its own 
sweet will of uncoiling. She made a striking figure in her 
studio that night. 

A door leading into a suite of rooms opened, and an 
elderly lady entered. ‘-Sibyl,” she said, “I have made all 


uecessary arrau^ementi;!, aud we shall leave foi the Cats, 
kills tomorrow where you can recuperate.” “And I have 
learned that Mrs. Elwood iuteuds going further into the 
mountains on a camping trip, and I have promised her, if 
your health would permit, you might leave me at the vil- 
lage and go up with her for a few weeks,” 

‘•Oh, how delightful I” exclaimed Sibyl. And she 
looked almost radiant as she said it. 

Mrs. St. John had never exactly understood Sibyl. 
She said she had too much vitality ; was too intense in her 
emotions. But if her mother had only known it, it was 
the hood tide of a loving disposition that had never found 
an outlet. She had always been the planner and the doer, 
and she longed for some strong hand to guide her life. 

Next morning she left the smoke and grind of New 
York, and CTtierged into Cod’s own laud — the country. 
xVrriving at the village, they found Mrs. Elwood was 
soon expected 

Mrs. St. John and Sibyl rarely spent their summers at 
a fashionable resort, preferring the wholesome air of the 
mountains. So this was not their first summer at the 
“Inn.” 

The first few days were spent in looking up old 
acquaintances, and as “Miss Sibyl” as every one called her, 
was very popular, time did not hang heavy on her hands 
until Mrs. Elwood came. 

Returning one morning from her walk, she found a 
stranger ensconced in her favorite corner of the piazza, 
reading placidly, seemingly unconscious of her presence 
until the swish of her skirts on the steps caused him to 
look up, when he bowed and smiled. Sibyl merely 
inclined her head and passed into the house. She felt 
an unreasonable antagonism to this man whicJi she 
could not understand. 

And Ceraht Sawyer was wondering whv he smiled 
when he looked up. It was (iertainly not his intention. 
But then, she did look too fetching in the short skirt and 


simple waist, and with that mass of j^old ^liuted hair that 
persisted iu liyiujjf in her faee. Perhaps any other man 
would have not even argued about it, but then, Gerald was 
a lawyer. 

At dinner time ISibyl did not see the stranger. Mrs. 
Elwood arrived on the afternoon train, and the evening 
was spent in plans for the trip to the mountains. 

Next morning, she was cornered by Mrv«. Elwood ami 
given to understand that Mr. .Sawyer was the man of all 
men whom Mrs. Elwood had selected for Sibyl to enchant. 
“For he is considered by the world as the very best ‘catch’ 
— ah! my dear child !” And with a shrug of her pretty 
sj»oulder she turned away. 

The other parties of the trip arrived the next day, and 
all preparations were made. The guides and burros were 
engaged and at the door when Sibyl came down. 

It was not until now that she was introduced to “the 
great Sawyer.” Plis eyes twinkled as he said the words of 
greeting. 

“Miss St. John, 1 believe we are to ride together as 
much as the mountain road will allow. So 1 suppose we 
had better decide whether we like each other. 1 am quick 
to make decisions, so I have already decided; but as you 
are a woman, you will have to consider the “pros” and 
“cons.” 

Sibyl was rather brilliant at repartee, and in the 
meeting of a master mind equal to her own, she felt a 
desire to conquer this man. Call it barbarous if you like, 
but it was there. She felt that she was being weighed in 
the intellectual scale in this, their first ride togetlier. 


CHAPTER II. 



HE rest of the jouruey was speut pleasantly. Mr. 


JSawyer and Miss Sibyl were the life of our little 


^ crowd. Mrs. Elwood had several weeks before, 
engaged board for the party at a little tavern called ‘‘The 
Haven of Rest,” which was situated in the very heart of 
the Catskills, and she was greatly pleased with her selec- 


tion. 


It was about 9 o’clock on the morning following their 
arrival at the hotel, that Mrs. Elwood came out on the 
front piazza and told Sibyl, who was reading a book, that 
she had planned a little trip to the “Bridal Veil” falls. 
Sibyl was delighted for the beauty aud grandeur of the 
scenery in this particular spot, had been discussed at tea 
the night before. 

“Well, if you will excuse me Mrs. Elwood, I will go 
to my room aud put my walking skirt on so we can start 
immediately,” said Sibyl, as she rose from her seat. 

After the necessary changes were made, Sibyl came 
back to the piazza and began reading the book she was so 
interested in, when Mrs. Elwood ipterrupted her a few 
minutes before. 

Soon a voice quite near her said ; “Well, Miss Sibyl. 
Fate, or rather Mrs. Elwood, is kind to me today, for she 
has arranged for me to accompany you to the falls.” 
Before Sibyl raises her eyes she kuovvs the speaker is Ger- 
ald Sawyer. 

‘•I am sure she could not have given me a more pleas- 
ant companion than you,” responded Sibyl smilingly. 

“May you ever be of the same opinion,” he said. 

Sibyl looked at Mr. Sawyer, expecting to s<,e him 
smiling at this last remark of his, but liis face was 


strangely grave. Just then, Mrs. Eiwood and the rest of 
the party appeared 

“Well, we are ready to start,” said Allison, a gay 
youth of twenty. 

“We dre too,” answered (jerald, as he playfully took 
Sibyl’s hand and raised her from her seat. 

The merry crowd soon reached the falls. For a while 
they stood looking at the sparkling water as it tell over a 
precipice of two hundred and fifty feet The silence was 
broken only by the splash of the water as it fell upon a 
huge rock. 

Ac mid-day they spread their lunch on a large fiat 
rock near the falls, and while they were eating, Sibyl said : 
“Oh, how I should like to climb to the top of that peak 
yonder.” 

“Your wish shall be granted, it you will accept me as 
an escort,” answered Gerald, who was ever planning to be 
with Sibyl. 

After lunch was over, they started on their little 
“expedition,” as they called it. 

“Don’t be gone too long,” called Mrs. Eiwood, who 
had decided to remain during the next few hours at the 
falls io she could sketch the scenery. The other members 
of the party were going to explore a cave that Edward 
Allison had discovered. 

Gerald and Sibyl had almost reached the highest peak 
of the mountain, when Sibyl cried: “Oh, Mr. Sawyer, I 
see such a rare fern on that ledge of rock directly over 
your head, which T must have. Please wait for me until 
I get it.” 

“I will get it for you. Miss Sioyl.” 

“Thank you, but I always gather the s{)ecimeus 1 put 
in my collection.” 

“Then I will go with you,” said Gerald firmly. 

It was well for Sibyl that he did accompany her; for 
scarcely had she reached the ledge when a treacherous bit 
of rock gave way beneath her, and she would have been 


throwD to the rock below had aot Gerald caught her skirt, 
aud, thauks to the stout dresses woru by the modern girl, 
it did not give way. Gerald being a Hercules in strength, 
soon had her drawn back to a place of safety. 

“Let^s hurry back to Mrs, Elwood,” begged Sibyl. “I 
am sure she heard me scream, aud I know she will be 
alarmed.’’ 

Gerald got up aud started bravely down the mountain 
side, but Sibyl noticed that he limped badly. 

“Oh? Mr. Sawyer, you are not hurt, are you?’’ she 
cried, 

“I am afraid 1 am,” he said, siukiug down on the 
grouud “My ankle pains me so badly I am afraid it is 
broken.” 

Sibyl was down at his feet in an instant, unlacing his 
shoe. The pain was so intense that Gerald, brave man 
that he was, fainted. 

Sibyl was greatly frightened. Here she was alone on 
a mountain side, with a disabled compatiiou, and help not 
within a half mile. By this time, Sibyl was compelled to 
take a knife and cut the shoe off. 

When she saw Gerald faint, Sibyl ran to a cliff cov- 
ered with moss dripping with water. She pulled a bunch 
of moss aud pressed it to his temples. This levived him, 
aud he looked up at her gratefully. 

“Oh, Miss Sibyl, how brave you are. You know just 
what to do to add to one’s comfort.” 

“Yes, thauks to the traiuiug I had while in a iiospital 
just before I went on the” — here she caught herself. 

She was about to let Mr. Sawyer know the secret she 
had guarded so well. She was about to let him know that 
she was Sibyl St. Johu, the singer, not Miss Sibyl, the 
plain American girl. She looked quickly at him, but he 
was almost overcome by a sudden, sharp pain in his ankle. 
It was very evident that he had not noticed her blunder 

“Mr. Sawyer, wha: must I do! I am afraid to leave 
you here alone until I go for help,” said Sibyl. 


“Do not iiiiud me, Miss Sibyl. It is for you 1 fear. I 
do not like the idea of your goin^j: such a distauce aloue. 
You know you might slip agaiu, and 1 would not be there 
to catch you,” he said with a smile. Although he could 
scarcely bear the pain, he thought it best to appear as gay 
as he could before Sibyl. 

“Oh, I am not afraid to go alone, but Ger — Mr. 
Sawyer, I have not had time to thank you for saving my 
life. 

“Don’t mention it. 1 was a lucky dog to be of any 
service to you.” 

“Well, time is flying, and your poor foot needs atten- 
tion. Good-bye.” 

Gerald caught her little hand and pressed it gently 
between his big ones. He held it longer than usual, for 
Sibyl’s face was a bright scarlet when be released it. She 
turned, sped down the mountain side, and within a half 
hour she returned with the help that was so badly needed. 


CHAPTER III. 


HEN the relief piirty reached the spot where Sibyl 



had left Mr. Sawyer, it was seen that he had 


^ ^ wanaj^ed to drag himself several feet to a huge 
boulder, and then had fainted from the pain. Hastily 
constructing a rough stretcher from the limbs of trees, 
they carried him back, and Sibyl — thanks to her hospital 
training — was able to bandage the sprained ankle nicely 
with the linen napkins they had brought in their lunch. 

Edith Benton, standing close by, was watching ail 
that was being done, and helping whenever she could. It 
seemed to Edith that she had known Gerald Sawyer always. 
Even when she was a tiny tot she had adored this strong, 
manly neighbor of hers. She had called him her big broth- 
er. No wonder she loved him, he was always so kind to 
her. Many times he had given up his boyish sports to 
amuse his little play-mate. It was not an unusual sight 
on suovvy, winter mornings to see them together. Many 
times busy shoppers would stop and smile at the sight of 
the big, sixteen-year old boy drawing a sled in which sat a 
bundle of furs that on closer inspection proved to be a be- 
witchmg little maiden of live years. There she sat with 
her hands in her big white muff, her eyes dancing, and the 
dimples playing 5 for she was fully enjoying this outing 
with ‘‘big bruver. ” 

Then she liad loved him with all the force of her little 
heart, and now, at nineteen, she felt for him a sisterly af- 
fection. 

As Edith watched !Sibyi, it seemed, to her that Sibyl’s 
beauty of face and form was more striking than ever. Turn- 
ing to Edward Allison, she said ; “Isn’t MissSiiiyl beauti- 
ful? I have never had anyone to impress me as she has. 
She stems to attract every one to her.” 


“1 fully a^»ree with you, Miss Edith,” Edward replied. 
“Suppose we go over aud talk to her, now that her task is 
doue. I thiuk 1 feel soiuo of the attraetiou of whicli you 
speak. Shall we go?” 

Now this was uot exactly what Edith desired. True, 
she liked Gerald, aua was pefectly willing for him to be 
with Sibyl, yet she liked this jolly, rollicking fellow in a 
different vvay, aud she was not willing that he should be 
with this beautiful girl. She was spared an answer how- 
ever, for Sibyl, raising her head just then, beckoned them 
to come to her. 

“Miss Benton,” she said, “Will you please help me 
put these baskets in order?” “No, Mr. Allison, we do not 
need yonr help, but you can help the men to move Mr. 
Sawyer.” And as he moved away, Sibyl aud Edith began 
their packing, and also began a merry conversation. Then 
Sibyl noticed that Edwai’d, who had gone a short way aud 
turned around, was gazing intently at them. 

“Sir!”, she erie<l, speaking in a severe tone, and play- 
fully shaking her linger at him. “Why are you staudiug 
there gazing at us? How dare you disobey my commauds?” 
Aud she started toward him. 

“O please dou’t. Miss Sibyl” he cried with mock peui* 
teiice. “I’m sure you will forgive me when 1 tell you that 
I was watching the grace with which you pack.” 

“Oh, go away.” She laughingly raised her hand aud 
he tied as if for dear life. 

At Edward’s words, Edith felt her heart sink, but it 
would have been different had she known that he was watch- 
ing her princially, and admiring her motions so full of 
life and grace. Her hoydenish ways suited him exactly, as 
did her style of beauty: curly, black hair, black eyes, aud 
rosy cheeks. 

As Edith did not know this, she felt gloomy. But she 
hid her feelings under a smiling face, and on the return 
journey, she rode close to Gerald Sawyer’s stretcher, and 
was more entertaining than he had ever known her to be. 


Two days after the accident, Gerald was lying in a 
hammock in the cool secluded corner of the piazza, and 
Edith, sitting near, was reading to him. All the rest of 
their party except Sibyl and Edward Allison, had gone with 
the other boarders to view some beautiful scenery a few 
miles off. Sibyl, who had been in her room taking a 
siesta, was now approaching froni the front door, while 
from around the corner came a merr}' whistle, and follow- 
ing it came Edward from his tramp in the woods. He 
reached the hammock first. 

“Miss Edith,” he said, “You ladies spoil Mr. Sawyer 
entirely too much. Here you have been reading to him for 
the last three hours. It is my turn to have you. Miss Sibyl 
will attend to this good-for-nothing invalid now. Do come 
with me. I have found a place where the most exquisite 
ferns grow.” 

“Very well,” said Edith smiling. “1 am nearly dying 
for a good run. Which way is itf That way I All right! 
ITi race Arith you. Now, — one, two, three,” and away 
they sped. 

“Shall 1 read to youf” said Sibyl, seating herself in 
the chair just vacated by Edith. 

“No, if you would just as soon talk; 1 would rather 
do that.” 

“Miss Sibyl,” said Gerald at last, “Do you know, 
‘Sweet Bunch of Daisies !’ 1 know it is rather old, but it 

is my favorite song.” 

“Why yes,” she said, “i used to know it and admired 
it very much.” 

“Please sing it for me,” was his sudden request. 
Somehow, although 1 have never heard you, I know you 
can sing.” 

Sibyl could not very well refuse, so she sang for him. 

“Miss Sibyl!” he exclaimed, when she had finished, 
“your voice is perfectly grand. It is fully equal to the 
voice of any of the great singers. Oh, what treats we have 
been missing !” 


*‘Mr. Sawyer,’’ she cried in alarm. ‘‘Do not mention 
this to any one. No one here but you know^" that I can 
sing, and I declare I will never sing to you again if you 
tell,” she declared with au ominous shake of her head. 

“Well,” he rejoined, “If you will sing to me I will 
not complain,” 

“Well, then, close your eyes and I will sing you to 
sleep. You look tired and sleepy anyhow.” 

“I won’t go to sleep” he said, but I will close my 
eyes. I can listen better that way.’’ 

8o he closed his eyes and Sibyl sang “Annie Laurie,” 
“Ben Bolt,” “Mabel Clair,” and several more of those 
sweet old melodies, and in spite of what he said, Gerald 
was soon wrapt in slumber. Sibyl picked up a book and 
went 01’ r under the trees to read. 

At the end of two weeks Gerald was able to walk, 
as the sprain had not proved so serious as was at first sup- 
posed . 

The party had (dioseu a rouud-about way of returning 
to the hotel where they ha*! left Mrs. St. John. They had 
come to the morning train from Boston, and thus had 
missed the beautiful scenery along the other route. Mr. 
Kalstou suggested that they ride through to the Hudson, 
take a steamer at the nearest wharf and return by the other 
route. 

This plan was finally agreed upon, and preparations 
were made for the journey. They sailed down the river 
until they reached tlie little village of Catskill. There they 
disembarked and took the old-fashioned stagecoach for the 
mountain side. The day was very warm. In the meadows 
the cows were grazing under the trees, restlessly switching 
away the buzzing flies; and the recently cut grass gave 
forth the odor of the new mown hay. Beside them, the 
little creek, Kanterskiil, wearied with its rough journey 
from the heights beyond, glides between the trees that line 
its banks, placidly smiling in the sun. Half a dozen cows 
were standing in the cool creek. From this point the road 


prraduallj’ rises to the base of the mouutain where the 
‘‘Mountaiu House,” their hotel, cau be plaiuly seeu agaiust 
a dark back-grouud of pines. 

For several hours they rode on, through the tall gate, 
along the road, until they reached nearly the highest point 
of the ravines. “On every side huge trees overhang the 
road ; on the right, the njountain towers. Right above 
them, on the left, the precipice plunge^' headlong down 
among the .scattered rocks.” 

“As they climb up this steep road, and see here and 
there great boulders lying on the slope of the mountain 
covered with moss and fern, and in the perpetual .shade of 
the forest trees that interlace their leafy arms above them, 
catching a glimpse every now and then through some 
opening in the tree tops, of the valley a thousand feet 
below, and the river glistening in the distance.” 

Mrs. Allison remarked: “You can hardly blame him 
who looking for a scene for Irving’s immortal story wan- 
dered into the romantic sceneiy ot* this wild ravine and 
called it ‘Rip Van Winkle’s (rlen’.” And indeed, they 
are reminded of the legend, for even then, as they stopped 
to rest their horses, a peal of thunder broke over the glen 
and echoed among the cliffs overljcad, gradually growing 
fainter and fainter. Then, there by the >ide of tlie little 
stream is the shanty called “Rip Van Winkle’s House.” 
All this gave the ladies of the party a “creepy” feeling. 
And they were really startled when they saw a mau 
approachiug witli what looked like a sniall barrel on his 
shoulder, and they made haste to get back into the coach. 

The .scenery along the rest of the road was very .strik- 
ing. Several times they caught sight of the “Mountain 
Plouse.’^ Finally they approached it through a narrow 
gorge shaded b\^ drooping hemlocks. 

All were glad to be back to see Mrs. St. John, and hear 
the animated discussion of the new arrivals of the day 
before. 


CHAPTER IV. 



BA WHS served iu the large and beautifully illumi- 


oated diuing hall, and the many guests from all 


parts of the country were idly lounging around 
in frienaly, jolly groups iu the rotunda and parlors; a 
quartette at one end of the long hall circled around a 
piano, giving the sweetest melodies of the latest selections, 
making liappy reveries for the silent listeners who did not 
seem inclined to indulge in conversation with the many 
topics and j«)kes that were going the rounds, 

Tims a stranger in this faraw’ay mountain inn soon 
feels like he is at home once more, and a member of the 
large family gathered there. 

In all this throng of friends, lovers and pleasure-seek- 
ers, none attracted more attention than 8ibyi in her natu- 
ral, friendly way and lovely disposition, yet carrying mod- 
est refined dignity with it. 

bo bibyl this evening, was not so quiet as she was ac- 
customed to be, but seemed lomewhat restless, or rather 
not caring to indulge iu her general manner of pleasantry 
with those who knew her and loved her best. 

She wandered oif alone, and in the various thoughts 
in her jiiiad of her many acqiiaiutauces, perhaps a 
thought born of woman's curiosity, she wished to see a 
fac-simile of Gerald Sawyer\s signature, and so passing 
unnoticed around to fhe (derk’s office, she politely asked 
him to let her look uvt;r the register to see if any of her 
friends from Boston were there. 

Sibyl’s eyes rested longer on Gerald’s signature, which 
bore the type of the most perfect penmanship, especially 
ill his capital letters. As she slightly glanced down the 
rest of the column, and was iu the act of closing the regis- 
ter, her eyes were fixed like rivets of steel at a familiar 


uaiue at the bottom of the page, xis i?he stood gazing at 
the name, she was carried back to the paths and play- 
grounds of a little country school-house in her happy, 
childhood days. 

How long Sibyl stood there like a statute, with all the 
world around her forgotten, she never knew; and how lit- 
tle did she think, that not very far away, was one standing 
looking at her with eyes full of devotion, and one who she 
thought would never give her the great pleasure of greet- 
ing once again. 

Suddenly some one clasped her arm which so startled 
her that she uttered a faint scream It was Mrs. El wood 
who spoke first. 

‘^Oh, my dear child! How we have been looking for 
you everywhere. We were frightened and afraid you had 
unconsciously walked out alone while deepl}^ pondering 
over some musical reverie.” 

It was one of Sibyl’s most peculiar traits to wander 
off alone about the grounds, when she and a party of 
friends were out exploring the mountain scenery, she 
would often go oft" alone on some slope or ledge and bring 
back many rare specimens of the wild flowers so well 
known in the regions. She would often express a desire to 
go fishing when she saw a beautiful pool at the base of a 
mountain torrent. 

One day she met a mountain lad with a rod and line 
and a number of perch and cat strung on a paw-paw bark 
string, w’endiug his way homeward across a mountain 
path , 

‘'Little boy,” said Sibyl, what do you ask for your rod 
and line and box of bait ?” 

“Two bits, Miss,” replied the little lad. 

Opening her purse which she always wore, she tossed 
him a coin twice the amount mentioned. His eyes opened 
wide, and he said gleefully: “It’s a trade,” giving her 
all that belonged to the outfit. 

To the surprise of her many friends, Sibyl brought 


the fishiug tackle back to the hotel, saying that she was 
going fishing on the morrow over in the beautiful lakeMiu- 
netonqnah, just a mile away, and extending promptly from 
the Catskill rang(!. 

By the side of this lake had stood many of the great 
Red chiefs, Powhattan, King Phillip, Massasoit, Pawnee 
and Wartouquah, the latter two being the most powerful of 
the Iroquois and Algonquin tribes, and the lake received 
its name from the beautiful daughter of the latter. 

8o, from the legendary story so well known to the 
humble mountaineers, Sibyl was very much attracted by 
this historical place, and decided to cast her hook here. 

She told the night clerk to have her awakened at dawn 
the next morning, according to her same peculiarity, hav- 
ing decided to go alone. Without letting her most inti- 
mate friends know of this, she was off the next morning 
before they were awakened. The golden rays of sunlight 
seemed like meteor sparks against the crags of the eastern 
horizon of a beautiful mouutaiu which was one of the pret- 
tiest sights Sibyl had ever seen, and always tliinkiug of 
making others hapjiy, she wished for her other companions 
to enjoy the treat. 

Sibyl soon arrived at the lake where she had decided 
to fish, aud had bbrown her hook far out from a large boul- 
der upon which she stood, and which was almost covered 
in canopy-like shape by a weeping willow hanging over 
it. 

Her cork was soon jumping from a “bite,’^ then under 
it went, when she drew her rod quickly, landing a large 
perch at her feet. Thus she continued, so enchanted by 
her new sport that she was unconscious of how long she 
had been there, as Apollo was fast drawing his chariot 
across the heavens near to the eleventh hour. She was wou- 
deriug how she would return with so much fish, when her 
cork weut dowu and she pulled up her rod, but the water 
.-plashed aud something jerked so furiously that she became 
frightened and stepped to the veiy edge of tlie boulder. 


Auotlier jerk fruui the rod overbalanced her and threw her 
forward facing the water. As the poor girl fell forward, 
she gave one loud cry for help. Fortunately she threw up 
her hands and caught a branch of the weeping willow and 
clung to it with a death -like grasp. She had only uttered 
the second cry for help wdien she felt a strong masculine 
arm circling her waist. Sibyl fainted in his arms, and as 
he stepped out of the water, fortunately for both there vvas 
a rock ledge near the boulder. He crossed over and laid 
her upon a mossy bank, and with his hunting cap, brought 
water and bathed her temples, brushing back her beauti- 
ful tresses from her blow. 

She soon regained consciousness and opened her eyes 
to see the handsome form of one whom she thought to be a 
stranger by her side. She was so shocked she could hardly 
speak. She only remembered her last cry for help in her 
hopeless fright. Sibyl in a few moments asked; ‘-To 
whom do I owe my gratitude for being saved from a watery 
and unknown grave V’ 

Raising his hat he showed that manly face and those 
beautiful deep brown eyes and said : “I am the author and 
writer of the signature upon which you looked so long last 
night.” 

When Sibyl heard these words she almost sank back 
into another swoon and faintly said : 

“Oh, Harold ! Oan it be you wlio have come back from 
the grave ^ust in time to save mv life. My thoughts have 
been often of you, but, of course, I thought I should never 
enjoy your company again. It all seems like a dream.” 

“No, dear Sibyl, my long lost love. I liaye not come 
from the grave but from very near ii. When I fell, as rnv 
comrades thought, mortally wounded at the charge of the 
Rough Riders on the bloody field of Santiago, I was sent 
to the hospital at Key West where I lay between life and 
death for many weeks. But by the tender hearts and hands 
of kind nurses, and it being God’s will, my life was spared 
to love you yet a little longer. Oh, dear Sibyl, liow often 


have I thought of you, of the mauy happy hours wo have 
speut together. And .sometimes the thought would steal 
over me that I might never see you again, and my heait 
vvould feel broken. Of course, I was one of the mauy 
strangers in the army hospital, but one of the nurses asked 
me one day when I was able to walk around, who ‘Sibyl’ 
was ? She said I called for you so pleadingly and piti- 
fully in my unconsciousness that it touched her heart so 
that she had to tell me. I would not tell her the story of 
my life, as I felt yon had said good-bye to me forever; 
that you would never speak to me again, which wa.s the 
reason 1 left my home and went to the war. 

*‘I left the hospital penniless and went West to the 
silver mines of Colorado. 1 began as a laborer, then 
explored and hunted for the treasure, and was finally 
rewarded with a lucky tiud in what is now known as the 
Harrington Mine, and your old b.ygoue sweetheart, Harold 
Harrington, as you see him now, is the owner and presi- 
dent of that mine, and the stock now stands 250 in the New 
York Exchange. 

“8ibyl, I did not know that 1 would ever see >ou 
again. In fact, 1 tried to forget you, but coming East on 
a visit to my old home, I decided to come to the mountains 
to recuperate, and it seems that Providence directed me to 
this place. 

“While I was out hunting a few evenings ago, 1 heard 
a sweet voice singing a lay that was familiar to my child- 
hood days. I was drawn nearer until I saw you singing to 
a poor crippled man. Oh, what a feeling stole over me. 
How it touched my heart with the affection of long yaars 
ago. 

“I have followed you constautly since then, not dar- 
ing to approach you, and when I saw you hauging over 
the water, I could not help springing forward from my 
hiding place to save you. So now, dear, true Sibyl, after 
all these long years of separation, won’t you love me as 
you did in bygone days.” 


“Oil, Harold!” cried Sibyl, as she raised herself from 
her mossy couch where he laid her, aud where she had 
been Usteuing to the words of her former aud first love of 
her girlhood school days Tbeu, none were truer friends 
than they, and always happy together. Harold was good, 
noble, true, and kind to her, aud Sibyl loved^him dearly. 
But this was a secret which she could not confide to her 
own people, as he was guilty of a great crime — povertj' — 
and her family, not to say wealthy, but with enough of this 
world’s goods to give them all the comforts of life and also 
a pride that yields to disappointments, as does a child to 
the sting of an insect. 

Their friendship was discovered aud iSibyi was forced 
to forsake aud renounce him. It almost broke his heart 
and he left his home forever, bafore he was yet twenty- 
one. 

Five or six years had passed, aud they had never 
heard of him until his name was published in large letters 
in the headlines of the New York papers, praising his gal- 
lant charge with his company under command of General 
Roosevelt at Santiago, where he fell seriously wounded, 
when he was carried to the rear m an ambulance. 

Sibyl was very deeply touched, because she still loved 
him aud she could hardly speak the words she wanted to 
say. 

“Why did you not let me drown, then my sorrows 
would all have been ended 

“Yes, and all my future happiness,” replied Harold. 

“Oh, Harold ! You must not speak to me so. That 
time has long past. I shall always owe my life to you, but 
you must leave me here.” 

“1 would like to collect this debt tlieu before 1 go,” 
responded Harold 

“Hush,” she cried. “Harold Harrington, you must 
go now and leave me alone, and promise !ne not to let it be 
known that you ever met me ; aud do not let my mother, 
who is at the hotel with me, see you, for she might recog- 


uize you. (Oli, dear *Sibyl, how could you speak these 
words, and how little do you think how much are in your 
words !”) 

“1 promise,'’ whispered Harold, and as he knelt he 
held out his hand to her, and she laid her soft, white hand 
in his, and he quickly pressed it to bis lips in spite of her 
efforts to restrain him. 

When he raised up his eyes were svv im mi n^^; with tears, 
but he turned away and hastened down the mountain path. 

tSibyl watched Harold’s form until it was lo.st to view, 
and "glancing down at her feet she saw a beautiful white 
rose, and in a moment she remembered seeing it on the 
lapel of Harold’s coat. She held it to her lips as if to 
sip the sweetness of every petal and then pinned it over 
her heart. 

Harold soon reached the mountain iun, a changed 
man; the wn)rld seemed all in a whirl t.o him. In his room 
he found a telegram from his private secretary in New 
York, saying: “Your presence is much needed. Colorado 
silver stock has advanced 50 per cent and is still rising.” 

After making the necessary arrangements he took the 
next conveyance down the mountain from the inn, which 
had seemed to be the spot of a “great fifid,” even more so 
than his silver mines in Colorado. 

Por)r Sibyl did not know what to do. She was so 
shocked, gladly surprised, yet it was sad and painful. It 
was so sudden she did not know what to do in regard to 
this recent thrilling experience. vSbe decided, however, to 
gather up her fishing outfit aud return to the iun. So she 
went her way slowly, a different path from the one Harold 
had taken. The wild flowers seemed more beautiful, and 
the birds sang more sweetly than ever before. 

Sibyl was already regretting so sorrowfully that she 
had turned him away so abruptly, and beginiug to wish 
that she could see Harold again, when a voice from her 
right broke in on her sweetly solemn thoughts. 


“Good moruiug, Miss 8ibyl.“ It was Gerald sitting 
on a lawn seat near the hotel. 

“Where have you been all morning, and what in the 
world are you doing with that string of fish?” which he 
took at once, as he was now able to walk wdth one crutch. 

“Oh!” she said, “I have been having a delightful 
time this morning fishing over a beautiful lake. It is the 
greatest sport and recreation that I have had in these 
regions,” (thinking, perhaps, to herself, because one inci- 
dent had happened). 

As they neared the Inn, he called a servant and dis- 
posed of the string of fish. As he assisted her up the steps, 
something seemed very fragrant, and glancing down he 
exclaimed : 

“Miss Sibyl,” where did yon get that beautiful 
rose ?” 

Her face blushed like crimson as she had at present 
forgotten it, and she replied : 

“I picked it up on the bank of the lake. Isn’t it 
sweet ?” 

8he turned and ascended the stairway leading to her 
apartmen.s where the precious sweet little rose was put 
away with some other most sacred and tender memories. 


CHAPTER V. 



HE next morning found Harold Harriugtou in New 


York city, hurrying down Broadway to the office 


of the Stock Exchange. Havinjr finished all neces- 
sary business transactions, he arose and left the office, feel- 
ing: very tired and careworn, as he had spent a sleepless 
night and a veiy tiresome morning. 

He stepped into the street, and as there was no car in 
sight, he decided to walk to the hotel. He always stopped 
at “Broadway Central,” which was only a few blocks fur- 
ther. 

He was thinkinfir of somethinjr that happened the prev- 
ious morning, which so entirely occupied his mind that he 
seemed unconscious of his surroundings. He was thinkiug 
how cruelly she sent him from her ; how much more beau- 
tiful than ever she seemed, which he declared in the past 
was impossible. 

She had changed, yes, in another way too. She was 
not the same when with him, yet he could not tell what 
caused the indifference. 

These thoughts, and many kindred ones, were run- 
ning riot in his mind, when he was slightly startled when 
he received a heavy slap on the back and heard the words, 
“Hello, Harrold,” shouted in his ear. 

He turned and met the gaze of Darwin Daily, whose 
happy smile soon jogged his memory, and he said wdth a 
forced smile : 

“Why Darwin, I am surprised to see you.” 

“ 'Tis quite a pleasant surprise to see you,” asserted 
Daily; “but you walked so rapidly and seemed so absorbed 
that, for a time, I thought T should not catch you, but I 


did, aud here we are. How does the world use you, old 
boy? 

‘‘Very poorly indeed,” said Harold, twistiu|[^ his caue 
aud lookiug down. 

Darwin surmised something was troubling him, and 
said: “Come with me to dinner aud I will see if we can’t 
amuse you in some way, so you will forget your 
troubles.” 

“Well, I don’t care if 1 do,” said Harold, not notic- 
ing that “we” that Daily put in. 

“You are stopping at the Marlborough, are you not, 
asked Harold. 

He was told that lie was, and they boarded the Jlrst 
car for the Marlborough hotel. 

Darwin Daily was one of Harold’s best friends, and 
was the owner of Glen wood Springs, Colorado, one of the 
most popular aud interesting resorts of the West, where 
Harold spent the larger portion of his time, as it was only 
three miles from his mine. 

On their way, Darwin told him how he happened to be 
in the city, and that he was in company with his sisters, 
Gertrude, Madge, and Wanda Lyman. They had come 
to New York to take a steamer, aud were going on an exten- 
sive trip abroad. Darwin told hiiu that they would be 
very much disappointed if he did not accompany them, as 
they were talking of and wishing for him only that morn- 
ing. They were to be in New York several days, which 
would give Harold ample time to arrange his business for 
a leave of absence. Harold told him that this was utterly 
impossible, declaring his most sincere regrets. 

By this time they had arrived at Fifth xV venue and 
were within the lobby of the hotel. Darwin went to tell 
the girls of his good luck in finding Harold, while Harold 
was waiting in the large, luxurious parlors, thinking of 
8ibyl, sweet Sibyl. Thinking that she, and she only 
could make his life complete, aud if she was only here, 
how iusiautuueous he wouhl say “yes” to go, leaving nil 


business to the care of others. But why was he allowing 
his thoughts to dwell longer here, when she had cast him 
away ? 

He was now interrupted by the rustle and chatter of 
the three irirls coining down the corridor. 

Madge Lyman, a charming girl of twenty-one, was 
tall and slender, with black waiving hair and bewitchingly 
smiling eyes. 8he was not called beautiful, but made a 
very striking and attractive figure. 

While Gertie and Wanda were mere gills of eighteen, 
both were perfect blondes with sweet dispositions, and 
were so much alike in every way, that they were often 
called “The Heavenly Twins.” They were more sisterly 
than Madge and Wanda. They had roomed together for 
several years at a boarding school, where they first met, 
and had never been separated but a few^ weeks since, as 
Mrs. Lyman, Madge and Wanda spent their summers in 
Glenwood. 

These seraphim lasses were both in love with Harold. 
They were nonplussed for they knew not which he liked 
better, as he showed no partiality in any way. But Wanda, 
having a “sunshine” disposition, always gave up to Ger- 
tie, who was inclined to be jealous, and in this way they 
always agreed. Harold declared them the best of com- 
panions, so jolly and lull of fun. He loved them with a 
brotherly affection only, and the three had much pleasure 
together during the summer months. 

Now, the door came open, and the girls were in the 
room. “Oh! Mr Harrington, what a pleasant surprise,” 
exclaimed Wanda, rushing to him and catching his hand. 
“Why, Mr. Harrington, I am so glad you have come. 
Won’t you go with us!” exclaimed Gertie, catching the 
other hand. 

“Good morning, Mr. Harold,” said Madge, bowing 
and walking slowly in the room. Then shaking his hand 
which Wanda had just unclasped, she said, “we are 
delighted to have you with us.” “Thanks,” said Harold. 


“1 am just through my busiuess, and was thiukiug of leav- 
iug for Glenwood tonight, but as I have been so fortunate 
in finding you I will be more than delighted to be with 
you until your steamer leaves.” As lie finished this, Ger- 
tie and Wanda began pleading with him to go, but he still 
refused their pleadings by telling them that he could not 
leave for so long a stay. 

After dinner they listened attentively to Harold, who 
gave an account of his trip through the mountains and up 
the Hudson, which proved so interesting that Wanda 
declared she would rather take that trip than the one 
abroad. 

After a long conversation, Harold excused himself by 
saying he was not feeling well, and that he would return 
to his room, to be able to go with them to see some of the 
most important places of interest the following day. Bid- 
ding Darwin and the girls a pleasant good night, he took 
the car for Broadway Central, where he went immediately 
to his room, but not to sleep; he walked the floor nervous 
and restless, then seating himself began to write: 

“My darling Sibyl: — I do not write this to offend 3'on. 
but I feel that I cannot rest until I write you and unload 
my heart of a portion of its burden. I thought when I saw 
you last, I would never make another attempt to tell you 
of my love, but I could not resist this last time. Sibyl, 
I love you as I have never loved another, you are my all, 
my future happiness depends on you, and you alone. If I 
lose you 1 lose ray life — for what would 1 have to live 
for ! 

“I will plead no longer, though I could write many 
more pages and then not say half; but I will stop and not 
puni-h you by having you read so much that you care 
nothing about. But if you only read this and love me 
once again, I will be the happiest mao in the State. 

Trusting to hear from you, I am, 

Yours in suspense, 

Harold Harrington. 


The oext morning was bright and beautiful, and at a 
late hour Harold was awakened by the sunbeams gently 
shining through the blinds. We will not discuss his 
dreams, as he had such a peaceful slumber. A rainbow 
hung against the misty sombre lined masses suspended in 
his mental sky. 

He arose, and in a very short time was with the gay 
little party starting for places unknown. “Where shall 
we go first asked Darwin. 

Harold suggested that they go across the street to the 
City Hall, where they found some beautiful paintings of 
Henry Inmans and others, which Madge enjoyed intensely, 
as she had always loved the study of art above all other 
things. In fact, she \vas something of an artist herself, 
and appreciated fine work. 

Thej- rei?ted in the City Hall park, then went to the 
Waldorf-Astoria, where they had luncheon, and from 
there to the Central Park. Gertie and Wanda were 
delighted with the statuary they found here, such as busts 
of Scott, Shakespeare, Halleck, Webster, Burns and many 
other famous men. Then to the great delight of Madge, 
they went to the Metropclitan Museum of Art. Madge now 
saw the finest collection of paintings she had ever beheld, 
and was very much impressed with Rosa Bonheur’s paint- 
ings and the Wolfe collection. One face seemed to im- 
press her more than all others, because of its simxilicity 
and youthful expression. It was of a singer with the name, 
“Sibyl St. John” engraved beneath it. “Sibyl St. John,” 
murmured Madge. “She must be one of the late singers 
of whom I have not heard.” At that name Harold stopped, 
looked all around to see if Sibyl was near, but he only saw 
Madge pointing to a picture which he recognized at once, 
and taking a few steps backward fell unconscious on the 
floor. Gertie screamed. Wanda stood as if paralyzed, 
while Madge and Darwin rubbed and bathed his temples in 
cold water. By the aid of so many willing and kind 
hands, he was soon restored to consciousness and able to 


walk around in the fresh air. While Darwin and the girls 
were taking a rest he went back to the picture, kneeling 
before it and looking wistfully in the face. 

Was it his Sibyl? he was asking himself. Yes, there 
was no mistake, it was. He could not understand why he 
had never heard of her being so famous and why she had 
tried to conceal it. These questions went through his mind 
when he heard Wanda exclaim ; ‘‘Why Mr. Harrington, 
why did you stay so long ? We have been looking for you 
and were very anxious for fear you had suffered another of 
those horrid spells.” She had said all this before she 
noticed he was before the same picture, and quickly asked 
if she was an acquaintance of his. “More than that, my 
child, but I would rather not speak of lier now. Miss 
Wanda.” 

The others now joined them and they went from one 
building to another. The Museum of xVatural History 
proved very interesting to Darwin j the Egyptian Temple, 
the gems and golden ornaments, and Egyptian Antiquities 
of glass and pottery, to Gertie and Wanda, but nothing 
else seemed to interest Harold or to attract his notice in 
any way. 

The remainder of the time the little party stayed in 
New York, was spent in amusements at the theatre, bay, 
etc. 

By this time our little party at the Inn was somewhat 
diminished, more so seemingly than in reality, by losing 
two of the jolliest from the crowd, Mrs. Ell wood, who left 
to join her husband in a sail up the Hudson, and Gerald, 
who had been called away on business. They all regretted 
losing their friends of whom they had grown very fond. 

Sibyl had been wandering alone moie than usual for 
tlie last three days. She seemed to shun Gerald, and when 
alone seemed very much absorbed in her thoughts. 

Gerald saw her weeping one morning just after she 
had opened her mail, and she had not been the same since, 
though he had tried in every way to interest her. 


8ibyl was very sorry iudeed to lose her old friend, 
Mrs. Ellwood, but she could not say this for Gerald, for 
she was lather pleased at his leaving, as she wished to be 
more alone. 

Gerald noticed that Sibyl acted strangely toward him 
of late, but thought it was only one of her moodS) and that 
she would soon be herself again. 

Gerald was in readiness for the journey and w^s sit- 
ting in the haminoek by the side of Sibyl for the first time 
in several days, when the old stage coach rolled up. “Miss 
Sibyl,” he said rising, “It grieves me very much to bid 
you good'bye. I have been charmed at meeting such a 
facinating and delightful companion. I assure you your 
esteemed company has done me much good, and I will 
always be grateful to Fate for connecting our friendship 
and having me to pass such an enjoyable month here.” He 
seemed to have more to say, but Sibyl stopped him by plac- 
ing her hand in his and saying, “I have en ,” but here 

she was stopped by the driver, who yelled to the extent of 
his vocal chords, “All aboard — five minutes late now.” 
The remainder of the good-byes and farewells between 
Mrs. Ellwood, Gerald and the guests, were brief, but Ger- 
ald assured Sibyl that she would hear from him in the near 
future. In a few minutes the old coach was rattling down 
the mountain side. Sibyl waved her handkerchief as it 
passed out of sight. She breathed a long, long sigh and 
went directly to her room to put away the token of remem- 
brance which Mrs. Ellwood had just given her. She picked 
up the withered rose and murmured low: “Too late! Too 
late! What might have been.” 


CHAPTER VI. 


WO weeks had passed and the steamer, Waldorf, had 



not yet left port. Owing to the delay in loading the 


^ vessel the day for departure had necessarily been 
postponed for two weeks. 

During this time the Daileys had remained in New 
York, and much of Harold’s time was spent in entertain- 
ing most royally Darwin and the young ladies. In fact, he 
was much entertained himself, rather enjoyed the society 
of the ladies, especially Miss Madge. 

Much they were together, driving in the park, or out 
away from the crowded city in the quiet suburbs, but more 
often wandering at their own sweet will along the hand- 
some corridors of the Art Museum. 

Madge saw and appreciated art with an Instinct born 
of love; Harold recognized and appreciated with an instinct 
born of culture. 

What a fascination this place held for the young 
couple ! Never before as many times as Harold had been 
through this magnificent building, had he found so much 
to interest him here. 

‘‘Why, old boy, 1 never knew in my life before, what 
a beautiful place the Art Museum IS,” said he to Darwin 
as they sat in Harold’s room one evening. “You should 
spend more of your tune there. I was there today, and 
find something new every time I go.” 

“You do?” said Darwin, “I imagined there was only 
one picture there.” 

“Oh, come now, don’t be too hard on a fellow.” 

What was there that held such a charm for him? 

Was it “smiles and eyes,” or pictures ? 

One evening, after Harold and Madge had taken their 
afternoon visit to the Museum, he walked over to Darwin’s 


room at the hotel. He knew he would be in, tor they had 
made no engagement for the evening. 

Darwin was alone reading and enjoying his evening 
cigar. “Come in, I was just thinking of yon, as I read the 
notice of tomorrow’s departure of the Waldorf,” said Dar- 
win as he arose to receive his friend. 

“Think of the d and his imps will appear,” quoted 

Harold. 

“Would you like to hear some very interesting news? 

“Always ready.” 

“How would you like to take an imp across with you, 
eh?” 

“Come,” said Darwin, “Now, do you really mean to 
say 

“I do, sir, to teli the truth,” saia Harold, “I've about 
decided to quit business and enjoy life abroad with you 
and the young ladies. America is getting rather dull any 
way, at least it will be, after tomorrow.” 

“Well, my dear old fellow,” said Darwin, slaping 
Harold on the shoulder,” this is entirely too good to keep. 
Come, I can’t wait to tell the girls. They were wishing 
several days ago that you could make one of our party.” 

The girls received the news with all the pleasure Dar- 
win had anticipated, when he broke the news to them; and 
there was a gay and happy time. 

“I know I shall be frightened to death when we get 
out in the ocean and a storm comes. “Ooo-oh!” said 
Wanda, with a mock shudder, her blue eyes dancing. “1 
won't, 1 don’t care what comes. A storm would be jolly, 
I should think. !So grand, so powerful! The ocean and I 
are friends,” said Gertie with a determined nod. 

“Maybe it will be more powerful and less grand than 
you think now. ‘Circumstances alter cases,’ is sometimes 
a very true saying” said Harold. “ Well, I’m not a coward,” 
said Gertie, laughing, “we’ll see.” 

“Yes, and hear.” 

“But maybe we wont have any storms,” said Madge 


shall be frightened if we do, 


in her quiet voice, 
though.” 

“I promise not to let a shark get you Miss Madge,” 
said Harold, looking at her with unconcealed admira- 
tion. For indeed, she was beautiful tonight. Her cheeks 
red with the excitement as it always made them, and her 
eyes shining bright and lustrous. 

And thus the talk ran on for many minutes. All talk- 
ing eagerly and excitedly in the happy anticipation of the 
morrow, until Harold finally declared that no one would be 
tit for a shark fight if they did not rest. 

The merry party reluctantly dispersed with many 
parting injunctions one to another to be ready at seven 
sharp. 

Most wonderfully strange, 7 a. m., found Darwin, 
Harold, and the girls (I will call them, for such they were) 
waiting impatiently and chattering like magpies. 

They did not have to wait long for tlie gang plank ; 
for the ship had been delayed and was anxious to make an 
early start. 

After seeing the girls on the steamer, the young men 
attended to the baggage, found their state-rooms, and soon 
all the party were comfortably established for the long 
journey. 

All were on deck taking much interest in the lively 
bustle on the wharf below. All was hurry and confusion. 
The rolling of the heavy trucks, the shouting newsboys, 
the street car changing its warning, “lUvSt chance,” the 
officers shouting their orders, and “a’board.” 

‘•8ee that old man,” said Darwin, pointing to a mid- 
dle-aged, red-faced man, crossing the gang-plank. “Watch 
him.” That’s the fortieth time, I do believe, that he’s 
been across there. This must be his first trip.” 

“Ah, look!” and thev all burst into a hearty laugh at 
the poor old man. He had just reached the wharf wiieri 
some one shouted from deck : “Look out! Here we go !” 


The liiaii iu a mad hurry turued abruptly, knocked au 
Irismau flat. 

“Begore, sir, I’ll tacho ye uot to be kuockiug au hon- 
est man to the ground, Just because yerself’s iu a trifle 
hurry,” said the Irishman, rising and shaking his flst in 
the man’s face. 

But for law’s sake, a policeman, much to the Ameri- 
can’s inward thanks, stepped up and there was no further 
disturbance. 

“That’s the richest Joke of the season,” said Harold. 
“1 am so glad we have him aboard with us,” said Wanda, 
who was quick to see the fuii iu eveiything. “We may 
enjoy his oddities, and I’m sure from Just what I saw that 
he has a great deal of fun in him, under all his seeming 
greenness.” And indeed the gentleman, for so they found 
him to be, created more fun for the party than even Wanda 
anticipated. Amos Green was his name, and well it suited 
him. 

The great steamer was gently rocking, ami seemed 
lugging and struggling with her moorings, as they creaked 
and rattled, like some sea monster eager to be away to 
its native grounds. 

The last “A’board!” sounded, the gang-plank drawn 
in, and with much snorting, whistling and ringing, the 
ocean grey hound proudly pushed out from the crowded 
wharf, and slowly, yet gaining each stroke, left the 
great bustling city to be forgotten by tomorrow save by 
those whose business it is to watch, and others, whose loved 
ones had left to return no more. A mere speck iu the dis- 
tance, the happy voyagers waved a long “farewell to the 
watchers.” 


The few remaining days now spent by JSibyl at the 
little inn, were filled with restlesss wanderings and listless 
participation iu w'hatever entertainments took place. All 
her party had left the hotel save herself ard her mother. 


Mrs. ISt. Joliu noticed the drooping spirits of her 
daughter, and in the evening as they sat on the wide 
veranda, proposed to Sibyl that they leave the inn and 
travel awhile, visiting several places, such as Yellowstone, 
Great Lakes and Niagara, planning the whole to cover about 
month. 

She was much pleased with the proposition, and the 
following day found Sibyl and her mother on their way to 
Albany. They remained here only a few days, then went 
to Buffalo, visiting the falls. But they did not go on as 
intended, returning home by way of Philadelphia and Bos- 
ton, where they spent a Aveek at the beach. Not until the 
first of August did they reach home. 

When Sibyl reached home, she found two letters 
awaiting her; one had been sent t(. her home address, the 
other forwarded from the inn. 

'‘Oh! I know this is from Madge Lyman, and when 
did I ever hear from her before?” cried Sibyl, tearing open 
the first letter mentioned. 

“Mother! just listen! Wouldn’t this bo grand if 1 
could only plan to go ! She says she and a few of her 
friends are making up a party to go abroad, and wish me 
to go with them. Oh, how I wish I could go. 

This was the first, real enthusiastic interest Sibyl had 
shown in anything for several weeks. Of all the cities 
they had visited, she seemed not to enjo}' any of them. 
Her mother had noticed this and there had been a mothei ’s 
anxious care caused by it. 

She thought she had seen at the inn the cause of her 
quietness, but had wisely avoided the topic. 

Now she was much pleased to see the interest and 
pleasure manifested by her daughter, and at once deter- 
mined she should go. 

“My dear, it would indeed be nice for you. 1 will do 
my best to get you ready, for I am really anxious that yon 
should go. My girl has not been herself lately, and 1 tear 
she needs this change,” said Mrs. St. John with much 


auxiety iu her tones. “When do they leave New York!” 

“Sibyl looked, but found to her great dismay the 
steamer would sail the 29th of July. 

“It is gone!” Such disappointment as those three 
words expressed. If she had only known of those two 
weeks delay ! 

Suddenly her mother, who had fully noted her disap- 
pointment, said, “Sibyl, listen! Just before we left home 
this summer, 1 heard Dr. Brooks say that he and his wife 
were getting up a party for the first of September to go and 
spend the winter in Rome. Perhaps we may go after all, 
anJ reall}^ the trip will be more pleasant than in July.” 

‘‘We will see,” said Sibyl, only partially as enthusi- 
astic as her mother. 

She slowly picked up the other letter, that had been 
quite forgotten in her excitement. 

‘‘Who can it be!” thought she, “1 do not recognize the 
handwriting at all. From Gerald, I suppose, though, dis- 
guising his writing.” 

But as Sibyl opened it and read, the smile vanished; 
her face Hushed, then whitened. The letter dropped to the 
floor. “What could he mean!” Had slie not forbidden 
him! Why did he persist so? Yet deep down iu the con- 
sciousness of her heart, she could not quell the small glad 
voice struggling for mastery. But no, her command was 
irrevocable. Not one mite could she recall those hasty 
words. Or so they seemed for the instant to her. Why! 
Oh, whv! 

No. Answer this letter she could not, nor even finish 
it. She threw herself upon her couch. How long she lay 
there, Sibyl did not know. Chaos reigned in her nerve- 
shaken brain. 

Finally she became quieter and cooler. Indignation 
aro.se, her woman nature asserted itself. Y^'et to keep from 
feeling a thrill of joy she could not. That person must 
have been iu love when he said: “The course of true love 
never did run smooth.” 


Mrs. ISt. Joliu was receiving a few callers, and had 
been called just as Sibyl began her other letter ; so she did 
not know of her daughter’s trouble. And indeed Sibyl 
was very thankful. 

When her mother came to her room, she had con- 
trolled her emotions and covered her agitation sufficiently 
to hide it from Mrs. St. John. It was not really decep- 
tion. The heart cannot always be laid bare, even a girl to 
her mother. Should it! 

Sibyl had placed the note with a small rose bud in her 
desk. “It must be destroyed,” but her hands were pow- 
erless to do so. 

Mrs. St. John had noticed her child’s manner, but 
thought it was the disappointment, so proposed after 
luncheon they go and spend the evening with the Brooks 
and find out about the European trip. 

They found Dr. Brooks and family were going to 
start tor the Old World the following week, and would be 
very much pleased to have their company. “A very 
agreeable surprise, I assure,” said the Doctor, in a tone so 
cordial they could not doubt his sincerity. And so it was 
decided that Mrs. St. John and her daughter would make 
two of the party tor Europe. 

“ Perhaps we shall meet them, daughter. Who 
knows?” 

*»**♦**#»* 

It is a most beaunfui September morning, when the 
bird pours forth all melody ever contained in so small a 
body, and the traveler heard in it the understrain that 
summer was passing, winter was coming, that deals hardly 
with small creatures. The beauty of a new day was glow- 
ing music. The world’s heart was poured forth in it and 
the heart of another streamed forth in the cry of a human 
soul. 

If we will look into one of the most beautiful rooms 
of the hotel Piazza de Popolo, we see the three young 
ladies loft so long ago. It has been little more than a year 
since they left New York harbor. 


They are prepariug to go to the loaguiliceut !St. Peter’s 
Cathedral. They had been in Rome only four days and 
had not been to any of the cathedrals. 

I suspect the boys are ready by now. They said 
they would wait for us in the second corridor,” said Gertie, 
giving the last touches to her toilet. 

“ Harold said he would call for me,” said Madge, set- 
tling hei head a little farther on the side. “There he is 
now,” as a tap came at the door. 

“Are you ready?” shouted Darwin through the key- 
hole, while Harold rapped on the door. 

“ All right,” said Gertrude, opening the door. “ Here 
we are.” 

“ It is a lovely morning,” said Harold to Madge, who 
was walking with him. 

“ Indeed it is. I hope we shall hear some line music 
to-day. I feel in the mood for a beautiful voice. I wonder 
who is the chorister at St. Peter’s. 

“ I do not know,” said Harold, thinking of a beautiful 
voice he had once heard that soiindf^d to his ears sweeter 
than any world-known chorister. 

They were at the cathedral. As Sibyl St. John looked 
over the sea of faces, saw the beautiful sunlight streaming 
through the dark, stained windows, Hooding the magnifi- 
cent building with its mellow light, she was inspired. 

As her voice rose and swelled in volume, all the pent- 
up longings of a passionate heart burst forth. Never be- 
fore had she so sung ! The multitude sat spell bound. 

Harold Harrington sat with bowed head. He had not 
noticed the singer’s face. He did not care to. The voice 
held him in a dream. He saw a mountain inn ; a beautiful 
girl, fairer than all womankind, stood beside him. 

The voice had ceased. He was brought to the present 
consciousness of a sudden pang. 

The singer was seated. Not a glimpse of her face 
could he catch. 

“Why” is an immortal (tiiestiou. 

In vain he searched for the face to that voice. 

Too late ! ‘‘It might have been ! 


CHAPTER VII. 


HE next morning liaroli Harrington and Darwin left 



the Piazza de Popolo hotel for the suburbs of the 


* wonderful city, where they visitea the remains of the 
Forum, Appian Way, and several localities in and about 
Rome. As it is nearly luncheon hour, and the last words 
of the three girls were not to remain long, they begin 
journeying homeward, passing the irregular mass of build- 
ings unprotected by an outer wall. As they near the 
Plaza, Harold’s mind is wandering amid many incidents. 
He is permitting himself to think of that thrilling voice 
he heard a day ago. As the girls see them approaching 
they salute them, and his mind is wandering in another 
direction. Several hours passed in a very interesting con- 
versation, discussing the topics of the day. After a few 
days the little company became wear\ of their long w^alks, 
and decide, after visiting the Mannertine Prison, they will 
not leave the Plaza until they regain energy, only to call 
at the Cathedral. 

As Sunday was approaching a great deal of Sibyl’s 
time was spent in rehearsing. The sun rose, and the sun- 
rise was never more beautiful than that Sunday morning 
when Sibyl was to sing before the impatient throng of 
people. 

As she sat in the choir she turned her head to the 
entiance, and seeing two gentlemen and three ladies walk 
down the aisle, Sibyl was sure she recognized the ever 
handsome gentleman. “What nonsense,” she thought, 
“Harold is in New York, or at his mines in Colorado but 
as the great silence was drowned by the volume of the 
chorus, her attention is called away, although she is con- 
scious of a very strange feeling. 

Harold does not notice the choir until the singing is 


begun. Then he turns his head from Madge and his eyes 
wander to the choir. As Sibyl is in the rear, he does not 
at first notice her, but when she stands before the audi- 
ence and sings, Harold tries to bring his thoughts together 
and decide how on earth Sibyl, “My Sibyl,’’ could be here? 
Madge turns to Harold aud speaks of Sibyl’s voice, notic- 
ing how pale Harold is. 

When the ceremonies were over and the people were 
dispersing, Harold could not decide whether to speak to 
her or go home with the rest of the party. He excused 
himself, giving some reason, and went to a part of the 
lisle where he thought he saw Sibyl join some friends, but 
to his disappointment she was gone. At first he was 
angry with himself to think that he would let her get away 
from him; but then he had promised not to intrude, aud 
in half an hour he found himself with the rest of his 
friends. 

On the following morning, as he could find nothing to 
interest himself, he decided to promenade. Darwin sug- 
gested going with him, but Harold insisted that he would 
like to be alone, so he started on his walk. He was un- 
conscious of how far he was walking until he slackened 
his pace before the Music Hall. As he entered he per- 
ceived a shadow across the hall. 

Walking to a station near the shadow he could see the 
outlines of a person. 

It was Sibyl. 

She was standing with her hands crossed, aud was 
talking to a tall gentleman with dark complexion, 
glossy hair, and of most perfect features. She seemed 
verv much interested. 

Harold could catch but a few words of the conversa- 
tion, aud to his delight he could tell that this distinguished 
gentleman was a great musician, and that this was the 
reason why they were so much interested. 

Harold detei-mined to wait until Sibyl left and he 


would follow her aud fiud out where she lived, aud, if 
possible, he would speak to her. 

When she left the hall Harold followed, keeping a 
few steps behind. As they neared a large common, he saw 
that Sibyl intended to stop and rest tor a while. 

He determined to do the same. 

She had not been seated more than five minutes, when 
Harold rushed up aud spoke to her, saying he could not 
resist the temptation, as he saw her alone. He pleaded 
with her to renew her love for him. As she sat opposite 
him, she looked as if she was thinking aud looking into 
the imaginary future. Harold said not a word. At last 
the silence was broken by Sibyl, 

She spoke of her visit to Italy, aud Harold told her of 
his friends that were with him in Italy, aud of his success 
in the mining region. 

Harold told Sibyl that after his return to the United 
StatoS, he expected to go to the Klondike for at least two 
years. 

Sibyl seemed very much worried over this last sen- 
tence of Harold’s, but to keep Harold from noticing this, 
she said she would like to meet his friends. He assured 
her she might meet them, promising to call soon. 

As it was getting rather late, Sibyl said she must go 
to her mother, but she promised to see Harold the next 
day at the same place. 


CHAPTER VIII. 



HE weary suu was just sinkiug iu the goldeu west, 


and the bright track of his tiery car seemed to 


^ Harold, as he walked slowly back to the Piazza, a 
token of a happy to-morrow. 

His troubles now seemed as light as the very clouds 
that floated in the sky. For had he not seen one whose 
face was as bright and beautiful as the sun, and had she 
not promised to meet him again on to-monow? It was 
with these pleasant and hopeful thoughts, as tie entered 
the gates leading to the Piazza and turned once again to 
Viehold the beauties of twilight, that he was moved to say, 
“ 0, wondrous sunset of this blest September day!” 

After Sibyl had ascended the steps of the magnificent 
Holla Mande, she stood leaning against one of the huge 
columns seemingly watching the changing scenes about 
her, but in reality her thoughts were wandering amid 
other scenes more remote. 

During her walk homeward, after her meeting with 
Harold, she had been thinking of her surprise on seeing 
him here in Rome; the same Harold of a year ago. He 
had the same manly form, the same natural but polished 
manners, the same pleading eyes, that betrayed the very 
teelings of his soul. She thought how they had bright- 
ened \vhen she said, “Yes, 1 shall be here to-morrow.” 
But now another thought came to her. “Why had she 
promised him thisf Why had she answered him so 
hastily Surely Sibyl must have realized, whether re- 
luctant to acknowledge it to herself or not, that it must 
have been something in those pleading eyes that, like some 
fairy’s slumber-drops, had some bewitching power over 
her. But now she had awakened from her slumber. Her 
eyes were opened; she knew what this meeting would 


lueau. Was she prepaied for it? With the iuteusity of 
this thought she had seated herself oii a settee that stood 
at one end of the long veranda. She had taken off her 
walking hat, and the gentle September wind was playfully 
beating her curly locks against her face. 

How long Sibyl sat debating this serious question she 
did not know, but at last she arose; she had decided it. 
She could not go to-morrow, she must have more time to 
T.hiiik over it. She would go at once and write a note to 
Haroli. 

She went to her room, seated herself at her desk, 
picked up her pen, but it seemed as if, for once, \vords 
failed her. She could not find words to express her 
feelings to Harold. She dropped her pen, arose, walked 
gently up and down her room for a few moments, then sat 
down again and wrote these words: 

“ Harold — I cannot come to-morrow to meet you. 
Please do not think hard of me for treating you thus, but 
perhaps some time you may know the reason. 

“ Your very dear friend, 

Sir.YL.” 

Sibyl read it over. ‘'Yes, that is all 1 am going to 
write,” and wdth that she folded it carefully, put it in a 
neat envelope, directed and sent it to him. 

Sibyl resolved now to go to her mother’s room and 
tell her all about it. 

When slie entered, her mother was busy writing and 
did not see her at first. 

Although Mrs. St. John was not a beautiful woman, 
yet she had a charming and intellectual face. 

Sibyl thought she looked so this evening. She was 
dressed in a handsome black silk gown, a present from 
Sibyl ; her wavy hair, slightly streaked with gray, was 
combed in a very becoming manner. 

As Sibyl stood a moment watching her, she thought 
her mother hiuked more beautiful than ever. She telt like 


ruuniug to her, burying her face in her mother’s lap, and 
there weep away her troubles. 

When Mrs. St John looked up from her writting, 
Sibyl came forward and greeted her mother with a smile 
and a kiss, as she always did. 

“ Sibyl, dear,” said Mrs. St. John, “did you succeed 
in finding Prof. De Lainef” 

“No, mother, I did not,” answered Sibyl, “and 1 am 
disappointed, for I wanted so much to see him. He had 
just left yesterday for Berlin.” 

Mrs. St. John noticed that Sibyl looked troubled, but 
supposed it was her disappointment. 

“ There is a letter from dear Mrs. Elwood,” she said, 
taking a letter from the table and handing it to Sibyl. “It 
made me feel real home-sick when I read it. 1 am getting 
very anxious to return to dear old America.” 

“ Mrs. Elwood 1” exclaimed Sib}^, unfolding the letter. 
“I was thinking of her this morning, and of the pleasant days 
we spent together at the little inn last summer, and won- 
dering why — ”, here Sibyl stopped, glanced at her mother, 
but slie had resumed her writing and did not notice what 
Sibyl had said. Sibyl gave a little involuntary sigh, as 
she sat down and began reading the letter. 

“I am glad to hear that,” said Sibyl, laying down 
the fiist page of the letter. 

“ What’s that dearf” asked her mother. 

“ That Edith Benton and Edward Allison are really 
married. They suit each other exactly.” 

“Yes; I trust they are very happy,” replied Mrs. St. 
John. 

As she read on a deep Hush came over her face. The 
lines read: “ Tell Miss Sibyl if she does not hurry back, 
I don’t know what will become of Gerald Sawyer. I saw 
him just this morning. He looks like he had lost the last 
friend he ever had. Said he had not received a single line 
from her since she left, and he feared she had been capti- 
vated by the charms of some Lord or Count, and had 


forgotten him entirely. He ended by saying, ‘Tell her to 
come back for my sake, and write me, if only it be a line.’ ” 
This was enough news for Sibyl j she did not care to read 
any more of the letter. She folded it, glanced at her 
mother, who had stopped writting, and was looking in- 
tently at her. 

Mrs. St. «Tohn arose, came, and leaning over, kissed 
Sibyl’s cheek. “Dear,” she said, tenderly, “Is there 
not something the matter; won’t you tell me what it is!” 

Sibyl was silent a moment, then, with tears in her 
eyes, she looked up at her mother and .said, “ No, mother, 
I can’t to night.” 

“ Well, then,” answered Mrs. St. John, “we will wait 
until another time. Now bid me good-uight, go to bed and 
dream away your troables.” 

The next morning when Sibyl, dressed in an unusually 
becoming gown, came for her mother to go down to break- 
fast, she found her dre.ssed and waiting. 

“Good-morning, mother dear,” said Sibyl, with a 
smile; for she had determined to be cheerful this morning, 
in spite of an aching heart. “ 1 think I must have over- 
slept myself; have I kept you waiting long?” 

“Oh, no,” replied her mother ; “ but 1 think it must 
do one good to over sleep themselves sometimes, for my 
daughter seems quite herself this morning.” 

When tliey entered the large dining-room they found 
Dr. Brooks, Mrs. Brooks, and several already at the table. 
They were greeted with a smile and a “ good-m iruing ” 
from all. 

“ Now Mrs. Brooks” said Dr. Brooks, “ I guess we 
can settle the question, now that Mrs. 8t. John and Miss 
Sibyl have come to help me out.” 

“What is it?” inquired Mrs. 8t. John. 

“Why, Dr. Brooks and myself have been quarreling 
all the morning,” responded Mrs. Brooks, laughingly, 
“ about returning home.” 

“I am with you, Dr. Brooks,” broke in Mrs. St John, 


“ for I believe we have made our visit as as we 
should.” 

“Well,” coutiuued Mrs. Brooks, peeriug mischeiv- 
ously over her cup of coffee at Dr. Brooks, “You, Dr. 
Brooks, and the rest of the party cau return when aud 
how you please, but Miss Sibyl aud I can find auother party 
who, perhaps are not goinj? to leave so soon, and will go 
the route we wish to go.” 

“You agree?” said Dr. Brooks, turning to Mrs. St. 
John, and she, willing to carry the joke further, answered : 

“Yes, indeed.” 

“And you, Miss Sibyl, agree on your part?” 

Aud she, who was really enjoying the joke, said 
smilingly, “I readily agree.” 

“ Settled then!” exclaimed Mrs. Brooks. “Aud Miss 
Sibyl we must be in haste aud find our friends, for Dr. 
Brooks says he must leave day after to-morrow, but he is 
in such a hurry he may decide to leave this evening.” 

After breakfast it was decided that they all, Mrs. 
Brooks and Mis Sibyl included, leave in three days for 
home ; for Dr. Brooks had received an important message 
from a friend to come home as soon as possible. 

The next two days were spent in such busy prepara- 
tion that Sibyl did not have much time to think of her 
troubles. 


CHAPTER IX. 


HE day for departure dawned bright and clear. It 



was not, however, without some regret that Sibyl 


^ made preparations to leave Rome. She had enjoyed 
this trip abroad very much, with the exception of the last 
few days, since she had seen Harold. 

She wondered which of her adorers she admired most, 
Harold or Gerald. But at last she has settled the ques- 
tion ; she is positive that she not only admires Harold, but 
she loves him. 

At this moment she is alone in her room, thinking of 
the many happy days she has spent with Harold — thinking 
of their childhood days, when there had not been a cloud 
to mar their happiness. As for Gerald Sawyer, although 
her admiration for him was deep, and their ties of friend- 
ship too strong to be ever broken, she did not and could 
not love him. 

The question now ivas, would she ever gain her 
mother’s consent ? 

Just at this moment her mother entered the room, and 
Sibyl begged her to stop and talk to her a few moments, 
and told her all : how she loved Harold ; that she could 
never love another, and that he had asked her to his wife, 
and only one thing was needed to make her happiness 
complete, which was her mother’s consent and approval. 

“ My daughter,” said Mrs. St. John, “all these years 
since my husband’s death, you have been my only com- 
forter; you have done all in your power to make my life 
one of pleasure; I can not interfere with your happiness. 
You have reached the years of discretion, and it is for you 
to decide what your future life shall be. If this is your 
choice, God grant you happiness.” 

“ Thank you, my dear mother,” said tSibyl, placing a 


kiss upou her forehead; ‘‘ aud uow, as loy plaus have luet 
your approval, I can wish for nothiufi^ more. 

“ But now I must finish my preparations for the home- 
ward journey.” 

Mrs. St. John left the room, and Sibyl arose, picked 
up her pen and wrote Harold a note, telling him of her 
decision. 

Preparations for the journey were .soon finished, and 
Sibyl, Mrs. St. eJohii and the rest of the party bound for 
America were on board the Atlantic steamer. 

Mrs. St. John ^\as in her room talking a rest, *nd 
Sibyl went to join Dr. and Mrs. Brooks, and at the doctor’s 
request began singing. “ Oh, Promise Me.” 

As the words of the song rang out clear and sweet, 
Harold Harrington, who had been pacing the deck, paused 
and listened. Could it be her voice f Surely not, and yet 
hovT strangely familiar. 

He remembered having heard a voice in Rome that 
sounded like Sibyl’s, and then he had net even looked up 
for fear he would find that he was mistaken; but now he 
was resolved to find out wdio it was that sang so like Sibyl. 

So he quickly turned, and drawing near, stood as one 
in enchantment until the song was finished. 

When Sibyl turned around and recognized him, a 
scarlet flush mounted her brow, but she strove for calmness 
and said : 

“ Why Mr. Harrington, what a surprise! Where on 
earth did you come fromf” 

He replied that he had received an important message 
to return at once to America, and so had taken the first 
steamer home. 

“ Sibyl introduced Harold to Dr. and Mrs. Brooks, 
and after a few moments of pleasant conversation, they 
were left alone. 

“ Sibyl,” said Harold, “ the happiest moment of my 
life was this morning when I received your letter ; so at 
last, my own darling, I can claim you as my own.” 


The rest of the journey was full of bliss aud liappi- 
uess for the young people. 

Each day Mrs. St. John found a new trait of character, 
something more to be admired in Harold, aud grew to like 
her future son-in-law very much. 

America was reached in safety, aud Sibyl was like a 
new creature. Her cup of happiness was overflowing. 

It has been said by the poet that there is no true 
happiness in this life; for our happiest moments have their 
compounding sadness. How very true this was in Sibyl’s 
case, for just when her life was so full of promising hap- 
piness, the saddest days that had ever darkened her path- 
way were at liand. 

Pier mothei- lay critically ill. She liad contracted 
fever, and was lying between life and death in her home 
at Albany. 

Sibyl had grown careworn and troubled, for she had 
spent many days of waiting and watching. Harold had 
been her sole comforter in this time of trouble. It is true 
that Mrs. Brooks was with Sibyl, helping her to care for 
her mother, but it was to Harold she turned for comfort. 

The doctor said that the crisis would come that night. 
About eleven o’clock Mrs. St. John called Sibyl aud said: 

“Sibyl, darling, I am dying, and I have one wish I 
want fulfilled before I die: I want you and Harold to be 
married now, to-night. I cannot leave yon, my dearest 
daughter, alone in this cold world ” 

Sibyl answered, “ It shall be as you wish, mother.” 

Harold aud a minister were sent for, and the quiet 
ceremony was performed. 

Mrs. St. John gave the newly married couple her bless- 
ing, aud in a short while her saintly soul found its haven 
of rest. 

Mr. aud Mrs. Harrington went to New York to the 
liome prepared for Sibyl, and lived very quietly for some 
time. 

Sibyl, as Harold’s wife, was surrounded by every 


luxury, aud lier married life is oue of greatest happiness. 
Her husband loves her as tenderly as he did in the days of 
their courtship, and is constantly trying to do something 
more for her comfort and pleasure. Only one thing hap- 
pened to darken their early married life, and that was the 
death of the mother so dearly loved by Sibyl. 

When the news of Sibyl’s quiet wedding reached 
Gerald Sawyer, he felt that life’s brightest hopes were 
shattered ; and knowing, or rather thinking, that he could 
uever love another, resolved to resign himself to the lone- 
some life of an old b ichelor. 


CONCLUSION, 


It was late iu tlie fall, and everybody had returned 
home from summer resorts. Sibyl was sitting out on the 
lawn in front of her beautiful home on Fifth Avenue, wait- 
ing for Harold to come to supper; just then she looked up 
from the magazine which she had been reading, and 
thought she saw Harold coming round the corner; so she 
laid the magazine aown, and went out as usual to meet 
him, and whom do you think he had with him! Why, it 
was Mr. Sawyer. Could she be mistaken? No; she looked 
the second time, and sure enough it was he. 

She kissed Harold, and then turned to speak to Mr. 
Sawyer and welcome him in her home. 

“How do you do, Mr. Sawyer; bow are you?” 
said she. 

He was looking very thin and pale, but he answered 
her by taking her hand in his and saying : 

“Very fine, indeed, Mrs. Harrington; how are you?” 

After a few minutes conversation, she excused herself 
and left the room to assist iu getting things ready for 
supper. 

She had living with her an old white lady by the name 
of “Aunt Anne,” who always had things iu perfect order; 
so she did not have much to do, and iu a little while she 
was back iu the parlor inviting them out to supper. 

As they sat down to the heavy mahogany table, cov- 
ered with cut-glass, silver and everything on earth the 
heart could wish for to eat, he thought he had never wit- 
nessed such a beautiful scene before, and he thought how 
sweet it must be to Harold to have such a lovely little wife 
as Sibyl and such a beautiful home as this to come to when 
tired and careworn. 


The blessiug was asked by Harold, and the silence 
was broken by Sibyl saying to Mr. Sawyer: 

“ Everybody helps themselves at my table. 

Mr. Sawyer ate like he enjoyed everything he touched, 
and the meal was spent in pleasant conversation by all. 

When supper was over Sibyl invited them into the 
parlor, which was a regular little palace j and uo sooner 
had Mr. Sawyer seated himself in a large leather rocker, 
when he asked Sibyl to play. 

She did not hestate to play to-night, as this was the 
first time she had seen him since her marriage ; so she 
played on the piano, and Harold accompanied her on the 
mandolin. 

When they finished the piece, Mr. Sawyer exclaimed 
“Why Harold, I did not know you could play.’’ 

Then Mr. Harrington turned and answ^ered him, say- 
ing, “Gerald, she has taught me lots of things since I saw 
you last.” 

They played several more piece?^, when Mr. Sawyer 
said, “Well, I could stay and listen to you play all night, 
but I suppose I had better be going, as it is eleven o’clock.” 

Harold asked, “Why can’t you stay all night with 
your old friends f’ 

Sibyl, before he could speak, added, “Why, yes. 1 
expected you to, and shall be disappointed if you don’t.” 

But he made excuses, saying he had business to attend 
to early in the morning, and that he had better go back to 
the hotel. 

But before he had gone far he thought to himself, 
“Wonder if Sibyl knows Madge is in the city?” And 
thinking she did not, he went back to tell her. 

Sibyl met him at the door and said, “ Oh ! Harold, he 
has decided to stay.” 

But he said, “ No, 1 just came back to see if you 
knew Madge was in the city.” 

“Why, no, is she?” 


“Yes, she is here; aud you will hud her at 320 High- 
land Avenue.” 

“ All right. Who is she visitiug? Aud when did 
she come!” 

“ She came several days ago, and is visitiug her aunt, 
a Mrs. Pearn.” 

“Thank, you, ever so much, Gerald, for letting me 
know. I will go to see her to morrow.” 

She bade him good night, and going to her room to 
retire, she remarked to Harold that she “bet Gerald’s 
business in the city was just to see Madge.” 

Next morning dawned bright aud clear, and Sibyl was 
feeling unusually well. Harold said at the breakfast 
table: “ Sibyl, darling, why don’t you go aud see Madge 
this morning, while it is nice and cool ?” 

Aunt Anne heard this, aud she put in, “ Yes, dear, 
aud I will have dinner all ready for you when you get 
back.” 

“ Well, 1 believe I will,” said Sibyl, “ for 1 know she 
must be lonely in a strange place.” 

When breakfast was over she followed Harold to the 
door to bid him good-bye with a kiss, aud on leaving the 
house he told her he wanted her to look her prettiest this 
morning, aud that he would send Jim with the automobile 
in about an hour. 

She then started to the dressing table to make ready 
her toilet. She was assisted by Aunt xVnne, aud was soon 
ready to start. 

She wore Harold’s favorite dress, which was a white 
crape-de-chiue over white satin, and trimmed in applique 
made of pearls. 

On her head was placed a large black hat, which had 
hanging from its left side a long black plume; she carried 
over her a black silk parasol, which was a mass of chiffon 
and lace. 

As she started, Aunt Anne told her she was the most 
beautiful creature her old eyes had ever rested on. 


When she was Rented in the automobile she told Jim 
to drive strait to Harold^s office, and when they reached 
the office and stopped and called out Harold, she saw Mr. 
{Sawyer cross! ut< the street 

He could not imaj^ine who she \vas at lirst, but recog- 
nized her now at once. 

By this time Harold was standing near the automobile, 
and looked up at Sibyl with an air which seemed as though 
he was very proud of her, and when he had a chance to 
say that he was, he told her he had never seen the time 
before when he felt like he had the only little girl on earth. 

Sibyl asked Harold to go with her to see Madge, and, 
although he had more business than usual to attend to, as 
it was the first of the month, he went on just the same, ns 
it was for Sibyhs pleasure. 

He went back into the office to change his coat and get 
a hat, and while he was gone, as Mr. Sawyer was still on 
the sidewalk near the office, she called out, “Gerald, don’t 
you want to go with us to see Madge!” 

But he said, “ I am just from there, and am going to 
leave on the nine-thirty train, so I won’t have time to go 
back. 1 just came by to bid Mr. Harrington good-bye.” 

Harold stepped out of the office about that time, and 
as he had overheard the conversation, requested Gerald to 
get in and they would take him to the depot. 

So he got in and went to the depot ; and he told them 
he would be back in a week or ten days. 

After the train left they started one more time for 
Madge’s house. When they reached the house, they found 
Madge looking for them, and she was overjoyed to see 
them. 

She looked at one and then at the other, and said, 
“ Weil, you all certainly ought to be proud of each other, 
for you surely are a fine couple.” 

The time flew fast, and it was not very long until 
Harold said he expected they had better be going, as it was 
after twelve o’clock, and that Aunt Anne would be a little 


uueasy if they did not get back by noon j so they left with 
the understanding that Madge would spend the next day 
and night with them. 

When they got home they found that the faithful old 
servant had everything in readness, and Sibyl remarked to 
Harold what a treasure she was. 

Next day it was misting rain, but Sibyl got Harold 
to go for Madge. 

When Madge came, the morning was spent in show- 
ing her all over the house and yard ; the llower beds and 
hot-house were visited, and Madge exclaimed, “ How 
beautiful everything is.” 

Dinner was announced, and Madge’s thoughts were 
the same as Gerald’s. 

When dinner was over and Harold had gone back to 
the office and everything was quiet, Sibyl carried Madge 
into the parlor, where Madge poured out all her secrets to 
her j she told her how, on the morning before, Gerald had 
asked her to become his bride ; she aho told her she had 
accepted him and was going to be married on his return. 

Immediate preparations were made for Gerald’s return, 
as then was the time for the marriage. 

The streets were kept hot by Madge and Sibyl, as 
Sibyl was doing all she could to get her ready, as the ap- 
])roaching day was near at hand. Things were soon got 
together, and everything in perfect readiness, when a 
message was received from Gerald saying he was critically 
ill ; so on the following day Madge, accompanied by Mr. 
add Mrs. Harrington, went to his bedside. 


THE END. 


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